


Slice of Life

by dragoninkling



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I was sorta picturing Tom Holland when I wrote this but it doesn't belong to a specific verse, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoninkling/pseuds/dragoninkling
Summary: Peter Parker is overwhelmed and, consequently, forgetful. Spider-Man has to pick up the slack.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker
Kudos: 6





	Slice of Life

Sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed.

Okay, not an entirely novel thought for your average American high school student, but then again, I guess most people wouldn’t label me ‘average’. If they knew the truth about me, that is. On the outside, I guess you could say I’m the epitome of average. Team Average’s mascot. Absolutely nothing noteworthy here, except good grades I guess, but with my recent string of unavoidable absences, even those are slipping down into solidly average territory.

But if people knew the truth…

Maybe my science teacher would’ve cut me a little slack for that last late bio assignment, maybe my principal wouldn’t treat me like a lazy delinquent, maybe my aunt would stop worrying about my late nights and unexplainable injuries, maybe—

But it’s not like I want people to know. Well, maybe I do, a bit, but they _can’t_. That’s the thing. They’d all be in danger if they did, and that would defeat the purpose of, well, pretty much everything I do. So I’ve just got to deal with it. Find a balance between my double lives. And, you know, keep things on the down low.

Things can get a little touch and go sometimes. Example: last Tuesday evening.

Mid-swing between two gigantic office buildings, my phone started ringing, so I dropped onto a rooftop to pick up the call. I used to have this really great ringtone—well okay, it was the Imperial March from Star Wars—but then I realized that maybe people could like, identify me based on my ringtone. So I had to switch it to that really generic default one. The price of being a superhero, I guess.

Anyway, I answered the phone, because it was Aunt May, and last week she promised to ground me if I kept ignoring her calls, and the last thing I need is an additional hurdle when it comes to sneaking out every day.

The moment she said my name I knew I’d messed up somehow. She’s just got this way of expressing all that quiet disappointment and repressed exasperation in those two measly syllables: “ _Pe-ter._ ”

I swallowed. “Yes, Aunt May?”

“You haven’t forgotten about picking up dinner tonight, right?”

“Dinner? Uhh yeah. I mean, nuh-uh. No way. I haven’t forgotten,” I assured her. (I had).

“And you haven’t lost the money I gave you?”

“Course not.” I tried for a laugh, just to show her how ridiculous she was being. It came out kinda forced so I ended up coughing instead.

(That money, in the form of a twenty dollar bill, was currently sitting in the pocket of my jacket, which was currently stuffed in my locker, which was located deep in the bowels of Midtown High School, on the opposite side of town).

“Peter, are you lying to me right now?”

I paused. “I won’t let you down, Aunt May. 6:00 p.m. Dinner. I’ll be there.”

End call. I hoped I hadn’t just made another impossible-to-keep promise.

I jogged over to the rooftop’s edge, and peered down at the assorted shops and restaurants at street level.

Based on my most recent vague memories of my wallet’s contents, I was 99.7% sure that there wasn’t a cent over ten bucks in there. Meaning my options were pretty much limited to the value menu at a fast food joint or cheese pizza. There were nothing but Thai and sushi places in this neighbourhood.

Besides, if I picked up something right now, it’d definitely go cold during the long web-slinging ride home. That’s when I had a brilliant idea (although my principal assures me that I’m wasting my potential, I do know how to use my brain when it counts).

There’s a pizza place a few blocks from our apartment, and I’d be swinging right past it on the trip home. All I had to do was call in an order, and it’d be ready to pick up just in time on my way back.

Perfect.

I was back on the phone in an instant.

“Hello, this is Joe’s Pizzeria, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, I’d like to order a medium cheese pizza, please.”

It occurred to me I should double check that my wallet actually was in my backpack like I’d assumed. I jammed the phone between my ear and shoulder, shrugged off my backpack and unzipped it. (Yes, I wear a backpack sometimes when I’m in costume. The suit doesn’t have pockets, okay? It’s very impractical).

“Is that everything?”

“Uh, yup, that’s it.” I was a little distracted by the process of rifling through my bag. First pocket: textbook; second pocket: lint; third—Ah, there it was. I breathed a sigh of relief. But something was niggling at the back of my brain.

“And who’ll be picking it up?”

“P—”

I nearly bit off my own tongue in my brain’s attempt to shut down my idiotic mouth. Peter Parker couldn’t pick up the pizza, because Peter Parker had forgotten to throw a change of clothes into his backpack before sneaking out of his apartment window earlier that afternoon. Hence, Peter Parker was stuck being Spider-Man for the time being.

“Sir?”

I could swing all the way home, change, and walk back—but then I’d be late, the pizza’d be cold and Aunt May—

_Crap crap crap crap crap_. What other choice did I have? Use your brain, Parker!

“Sir? Hello?”

Two options: endanger my secret identity or disappoint Aunt May (again).

Well, when you put it that way, there practically was no choice. I cleared my throat a little.

“Uh, Spider-Man.”

“Pardon me?”

“Spider-Man’s picking it up.”

“Is this some sort of a—”

“He’ll be there in twenty minutes. Trust me.”

“Sir, are—”

I hung up. “Alright, let’s hope they don’t think that was a prank call.” I tucked my mask back under my chin and took a running leap off the rooftop. Duty called; I had a pizza to pick up.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this for a prompt in a creative writing class two years ago, which ran as follows:  
> 
>
>> "Write in persona, speaking from first person POV you imagine for a mythological, fairytale, historical, cultural or pop-culture figure. But don’t just tell the story we associate with this figure— drop your persona into an unexpected context and cause the reader to empathize with the (unexpected) humanity of this perspective." [Write Moves, Nancy Pagh]
> 
>   
> *fist pump* An opportunity to write fanfic in uni shall not be wasted!  
> It was pressure from my sister that got me to actually post it.  
> I had some thoughts of continuing with a second chapter; let me know if you're interested.  
> À la prochaine.


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